


meet me in the middle

by ebi_pers



Category: High School Musical: The Musical: The Series (TV)
Genre: F/M, Miscommunication galore, Prepare for Petty, arguments and make ups, rini - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24262663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebi_pers/pseuds/ebi_pers
Summary: Ricky's late. Nini's mad. The stage gets divided and pettiness ensues.Or, Ricky and Nini learn the importance of open communication in a relationship.
Relationships: Ricky Bowen/Nini Salazar-Roberts
Comments: 18
Kudos: 82





	meet me in the middle

**Author's Note:**

> As promised, here's the oneshot that I was working on. It took a lot longer to finish than I expected, and it's by far the longest oneshot I've written on here, but I'm pretty happy with how it came out. Fair warning, liberal use of the F-word ahead because they're high schoolers after all. Please enjoy!

Ricky Bowen is afraid of very little in life. His fearlessness is often cited as both his greatest strength and his greatest weakness. Tailslide off the window ledge of the school? Easy. Cannonball from the highest diving board at the community pool? No sweat. Face down Meatloaf Monday in the cafeteria? He can do it without batting an eye. But an angry Nini? Now _that’s_ something to be afraid of. 

He’s reasonably sure he’ll be dealing with angry Nini today, judging by the fact that it’s already five minutes past eight and he’s just now lacing up his Vans. Any lingering doubt in his mind is removed when he opens the door of her Hyundai Elantra and slides into the passenger seat. The radio is off. Nini never turns the radio off unless she wants to stew in the silence. 

She doesn’t smile as she puts the car in gear and jolts away from the curb. Nini usually loves when it’s her turn to drive them to school. She’s been yearning for the chance since she got her permit and he taught her to drive in his old Beetle, always careful to find tucked-away parking lots where they wouldn’t get in trouble. And since she got her license and her moms gifted her with a new car, she’s jumped at any excuse to drive. 

“Good morning,” Ricky chirps, hoping to defuse the tension with his most charming smile. 

“Ricky, it’s 8:05,” Nini bites out, putting on her turn signal and merging off his side street onto the main road. 

“Yeah,” he says, dropping his gaze to the frayed straps on his backpack. 

It’s the wrong thing to say. “Yeah?” Nini blurts, tapping the brakes involuntarily and causing the car to jerk as it slows. “That’s all you have to say? Yeah? Ricky, school starts at _eight_ . I’ve been in your driveway for _fifteen_ minutes!” 

Ricky winces at her tone. Sharp and angry. “I know, I know,” he says placatingly. “I’m sorry. I overslept my alarms.” 

“Literally how?” Nini says. “How could you _possibly_ oversleep your alarms when you have _ten of them_ ? And what about the four phone calls and like fifty _billion_ text messages?” She rounds a bend at full speed and Ricky grips the side of the seat so hard his knuckles turn white.

“I’m sorry! I was up late last night playing Fortnite with Big Red so…”

“You were _what_?” 

For a moment, Ricky worries she might steer them into oncoming traffic intentionally. He gulps, mentally chiding himself for not thinking up a better excuse. “I was... playing Fortnite with Big Red?” 

“Richard Thomas Bowen,” Nini screeches, and he knows he’s in for it. “You can’t be serious. I’m about to be late to school _again_ because you decided to stay up playing fucking _Fortnite_ ? _God_! I should’ve just left. Look, your attendance record may not be all that important to you but I’m one more tardy away from a detention and I cannot afford that.” 

“It won’t happen again,” Ricky says hastily as the school looms into view. 

“You said that last time,” Nini points out. “And the time before that. In fact, since I started coming to pick you up, I think we’ve been late more often than we’ve been on time.” 

There’s only one space left in the student parking lot by the time they arrive. Way in the back, sandwiched between EJ’s Cherokee and Kourtney’s faded white Honda. Ricky stumbles from the car, slinging his backpack carelessly over one shoulder. 

“Nini. I’m sorry,” he tries for the third time, reaching for her hand to interlace their fingers. 

She pulls away from him. “No, Ricky. You don’t get to just say sorry and worm your way out of it this time. I’m mad at you.” 

“Nini, I didn’t mean to…”

“You’re missing the point. I know you didn’t mean to,” she sighs in exasperation. “You know what? We’re already late. I don’t have time for this.” She adjusts her bag on her shoulder and storms off, leaving Ricky in her wake.

* * *

“There you go Mr. Bowen,” Les, the security guard, hands him a pink tardy slip and attaches a second, yellow slip of paper labeled DETENTION. “You’re at ten tardies for the year. Another five and you get two detentions.” 

“Thanks,” Ricky mumbles, accepting the papers and trudging to his locker. He slips into his first period English class quietly, holding up the pink tardy slip. Mr. Lee nods and gives him a thumbs up without pausing his discussion on the symbolism of figs in _The Bell Jar_. He slides into a seat in the back of the room and looks up to find Nini and Kourtney glaring daggers at him. He sighs and feels somewhat grateful that he won’t have to see his girlfriend or her best friend again until lunch. Kourtney’s glares could burn holes into their target. Coupled with Nini’s disapproving expression, the result is an overwhelming sense of shame. And a little terror. 

* * *

“So yeah. That’s why Nini’s ignoring me now.” Ricky finishes telling Big Red and Seb about the morning’s events and takes a long swig of his iced tea. 

“Dude, just apologize,” Big Red suggests matter-of-factly.

“I _did_. Like three times. But she didn’t wanna hear it.” 

“I hate to break it to you, Ricky,” Seb says, adjusting his glasses, “but Nini kinda has a point. I know you didn’t mean any harm, but you made her late to school and she takes that seriously.” 

“Whoa,” EJ says, setting his tray down on the table and leaning over to catch Ricky’s eye. “Who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?” 

“Ricky’s in the doghouse,” Red elaborates. 

“Ah, Nini troubles,” EJ nods sagely. “I’ve been there.” 

The skater perks up. “Really? What did you do to fix it?” 

The older teen shrugs. “Nothing. She broke up with me.” 

Ricky groans and buries his head in his arms, unwilling to admit how much the thought has played on his mind since their fight in the car. Is this breakup-worthy? He doesn’t think so, but then again, Nini’s never been angry enough to ignore him. He’s already lost her once. She’s given him a second chance, and those aren’t something she gives easily. He doesn’t want to test whether she’s generous enough to offer a third.

“Maybe don’t give advice next time,” Seb says gently to EJ, patting his arm as he moves to sit down. 

“Guys, I fucked up. What do I do?” Ricky pleads, clutching his head between both hands. “How do I fix this?” 

“I don’t know if we’re the most qualified group of people to be giving relationship advice,” Seb begins, glancing around the table. “Or any advice, really.” 

Big Red shrugs. “That’s fair,” he says around a mouthful of sandwich. 

“But if I were you,” Seb continues, “I wouldn’t just apologize to Nini. I would make sure she knows that you recognize why she’s upset. She needs to know that you understand _why_ you fucked up. Otherwise, how does she know you won’t do it again?” 

“And you might wanna pick up the pace,” EJ suggests. “Because…” he jerks his head in the direction of the cafeteria doors, just as Nini enters, flanked by Carlos and Kourtney. Gina brings up the rear. 

Nini pauses at the circular table, assessing the group and the available seats. Everyone’s in their usual place. EJ always sits on the end of a bench, and Gina always sits across from him and next to Kourtney. Seb always sits right next to Carlos. Ashlyn sits between her cousin and Big Red, and Ricky flanks Red on the other side. The last seat, between Ricky and Kourtney, is hers. It’s the unspoken order of things, and it feels wrong to violate it. The empty space beside Ricky is open and inviting, and he looks at her imploringly. She feels her resolve crumble for a moment until Kourtney clears her throat. 

“EJ,” Nini asks, her voice dripping with exaggerated sweetness. She doesn’t take her eyes off Ricky, who visibly slumps at her tone. “Would you mind switching seats today? I need to talk to Gina about something.” 

The senior tosses his hands up in surrender, rolling his eyes slightly. “Okay, sensing a lot of hostility here already.” He vacates his space and moves to sit beside Ricky. “Sup?” he asks, playfully offering the younger teen his most charming smile. 

Ricky casts him a withering look and turns back to his lunch, breaking edges off the styrofoam tray and crushing them in his hands. By the time Ashlyn joins them, the table has fallen completely silent. The order is broken. Kourtney glares at Ricky from across the table. Nini whispers to Gina, who nods sympathetically, and Carlos, who joins Kourtney in her glaring. Big Red crunches his carrots unnecessarily loudly. Ashlyn pulls out her macrame string and works on a bracelet, occasionally glancing up and locking eyes with the others. Seb buries his face in his psychology textbook and pretends to focus, pausing every so often to look pointedly at Carlos if he glares for too long. EJ scrolls through his Instagram feed. 

Finally, with only a few minutes left in the period, Ricky breaks the uncomfortable silence that has descended over the group. “Okay, look. Nini, I’m sorry, okay? I’m really, truly sorry that I overslept and made you late to school today.” 

Nini’s face wavers for a moment, and hope surges within him at the possibility of forgiveness. But his hopes are dashed when she only shakes her head, her jaw set in frustration. “You really don’t get it, do you?” she asks, and he knows better than to answer a rhetorical question. “It’s not just about me being late for school, Ricky.” 

She rises from her seat and yanks her empty tray toward her before turning on her heel and heading wordlessly for the door. Kourtney gets up to follow her and Carlos follows suit. 

“See you guys at drama club later,” he says with mock cheer, gathering his textbooks in his arms. “But if you ask me, I’ve had my fill of drama for the day.” 

* * *

“I mean, I’m not even really upset at him for being late. Ricky’s Ricky, you know?” Nini glances around the lab table at Seb, Gina, and Ashlyn.

“That’s not what Ricky seems to think,” Seb puts in, delicately removing a microscope slide from the box.

“It’s about more than that,” Nini sighs, adjusting her lab coat and filling an eyedropper with water. She hands it to Ashlyn. 

“Well,” the redhead says, her voice measured, “Maybe you should tell him what it’s really about then.” She carefully squeezes a drop onto the slide. Gina leans over and places a torn edge of a leaf in the droplet before quickly placing a cover slip over it.

“But _come on_ ,” Nini says. “It’s gotta be obvious, right? He does this _all_ the time and I point it out to him _all_ the time.” 

“I don’t know,” Seb answers pensively, locking eyes with Gina while Nini stares into the microscope. Beside him, Ashlyn shakes her head and lets out a slow hiss of breath through her nostrils. 

“How much more obvious could I make it?” Nini says helplessly. 

“Very,” Gina mumbles, nudging her aside to take her turn peeking into the microscope. She adjusts the knobs. “ _I’m_ not even sure what the problem is, and you’ve been complaining about it since second period.” 

Ashlyn takes her turn with the device, simultaneously sketching in her lab notebook. “I see chloroplasts,” she says. “Seb, take a look.” The blond adjusts his goggles over his glasses and peers through the lens while the redhead turns to Nini. “Okay, look. I’m not an expert, but it doesn’t take an expert to know that issues don’t get fixed unless you communicate them. My mom always says a closed mouth never gets fed. So if you’re pissed at Ricky, which you have every right to be, you should tell him why. It sounds to me like you’re more mad that he keeps saying he won’t do it again, but he keeps doing it again.” 

“Exactly!” Nini exclaims, a little too loudly, causing nearby lab groups to look pointedly at her. “It just feels like he’s not really hearing me,” she continues in a lower voice. “Like he’s just saying it so I’ll stop bothering him about it.”

“Then you need to tell him that,” Ashlyn says. “Instead of just ignoring him and snapping at him every time he pushes the issue. Nothing gets solved that way. Ricky’s a boy. Boys are dumb.” 

Seb snorts. “True.” 

The brunette sighs. She wishes it was as simple as opening her mouth and expressing a problem to Ricky. There’s so much to like about the boy. He’s one of the most well-intentioned people she’s ever met. He’s sincere and earnest. He’s fearless and funny. He makes her heart race with a simple smile, and the feeling of their fingers interlocking is electric. Ricky is radiant and full of life. But Ricky is also type B to a fault, and sometimes she’s convinced his curls must be wound so tightly that he’s losing brain cells. He’s distractible and flighty and adorable and _clueless_ and she wants to scream and shake him and kiss him. 

And she can never bring herself to break his heart, which is why ignoring Ricky right now is the safer option. His parents’ divorce is still recent. She knows that his ears still ring with the shouting matches that took place before his mother left, and the tense final meeting at the arbitrator’s office is fresh in his mind. And even if that weren’t the case, Ricky’s never been good at handling conflict anyway. In second grade, she and Kourtney got in a fight. The cause has long since escaped her, but she’s certain it was something stupid. What hasn’t escaped her, though, is Ricky’s reaction. Even though it had no bearing on him, he’d still been upset - perhaps more upset than Nini or Kourtney had been. And at recess, he’d closed one sweaty, Goldfish-cracker-encrusted hand around hers and one around Kourtney’s and pulled them both under the jungle gym where he forced them to talk it out. 

She’s seen how this morning’s argument has affected Ricky. He’s been moping around the hallways like a kicked puppy, and it breaks her heart a little each time she lays eyes on him. But right now, she can’t trust herself not to take some of her frustration out on him. She’s already taken more shots at him than she intended. She’ll get over it eventually. For now, avoiding him seems to be the best option for the both of them, and by tomorrow the frustration will have passed and they’ll be back to normal. 

“Nini?” Gina calls her attention back. “You still need to finish your lab notes.” She glances down at the empty lab notebook open in front of her. “Period’s almost over.” 

Nini nods, catching her bottom lip between her teeth as she picks up her pen.

* * *

“I don’t get it,” Ricky sighs, checking the basketball to EJ half-heartedly. It swings slightly wide, and the older teen swivels to grab it before it bounces off the nearby bleachers. “I mean, I’ve said like a _billion_ sorrys already. You heard me in the cafeteria, right?”

“I heard you,” EJ answers, passing the ball back to him.

“Well… Did I say the wrong thing?” Ricky asks. “Did it sound insincere? Because I swear I meant every word…” 

“No, dude, you sounded sincere as fuck,” he answers. 

“Then what am I doing wrong?” Ricky practically wails, grateful for the persistent thud of basketballs on the gym floor that covers his voice. 

EJ releases a measured breath and narrowly dodges the basketball that Ricky passes to him. It breezes past his ear with a slight whistling, and for a moment his upper lip twitches with remembered pain. 

“Sorry!” Ricky apologizes quickly. “Shit! I’m so sorry! I totally didn’t mean that. _God_ I keep fucking up today.” 

EJ lays a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’s fine, Ricky.” 

“No, it’s really not,” Ricky says, clutching his head and slowly sliding to the floor. 

“Dude, you didn’t even hit me.”

“Not that, EJ,” the boy sighs shakily. 

“Bowen?” Coach Mullings calls from across the gym. “You alright?” 

“He’s fine, Coach!” EJ shouts back. “Just a little winded.” 

“Why don’t you help him get some water, Caswell?” 

“Here,” EJ offers the younger boy a hand and hauls him to his feet, guiding him through the gym doors to the water fountain across the hall. “Okay, what’s going on, Ricky?” 

“N-nothing,” he answers, gulping water. “Just… The whole Nini thing.” 

He doesn’t want to admit it. Not to himself and not to EJ, and definitely not in the middle of the hall, dressed in gym clothes and covered in sweat, water dribbling down the side of his mouth. But the fight in the car, Nini’s peevishness, and the way she’s all-but-ignored him hits a little too close to home.

It’s not that his parents never fought when he was a kid. But right around the time he started high school, the fights started getting worse. More frequent. They started out in hushed tones - shouting masked as urgent whispering. Always after he’d gone to bed, though he could pick up bits and pieces through his shut bedroom door. Over time, their disagreements became more open. Annoyed rumbling at the dinner table. A cutting remark when they both got home from work. His dad started sleeping on the couch. His mom started going on more trips. 

Finally, the screaming matches started. And after every one, his dad would slink around the house in silence while his mom would ignore him, leaving Ricky to walk on eggshells for fear of shattering whatever delicate peace had settled over their house. Sometimes the fights were short: twenty-minute spats that ended as suddenly as they erupted. Sometimes they were protracted, dragging on over the course of multiple rounds. On the worst nights, he would seek refuge on Nini’s doorstep and, when she was unavailable, in Big Red’s basement. The periods of time between fights felt like purgatory. He spent a lot of his time there, suspended in space and time. 

Nini isn’t usually like this. Nini’s anger is slow to rise, but when it’s risen, it’s explosive. Her outbursts are intense and emotional, full of tears but devoid of the name-calling and barbed remarks that punctuated his parents’ worst fights. And as quick as she is to express her anger, she is just as quick to reconcile. Prior to their breakup, every major disagreement they had - and there were only a few - had always ended with a warm hug and a gentle kiss and a reassurance that they were alright. That they still cared about each other. That they were stronger than their temporary anger. In all the time they were together, and in all the time since they’ve gotten back together, Nini’s never ignored him. 

“Ricky, take it easy,” EJ urges. “You’re gonna, like, drown yourself internally.” 

“That’s a thing?” the younger boy questions. 

EJ nods earnestly and Ricky removes his hand from the button. The flow of water dribbles to a halt. “Okay, look,” the older teen says. “You want some advice on Nini?” 

Ricky nods and momentarily considers the irony. Combined, he’s got almost a year’s worth of experience dating Nini. He knows her habits and tendencies. Sometimes, he swears he can read her thoughts before she’s voiced them. EJ’s only got a few months of experience dating her, and yet he’s seeking his advice on the matter. He supposes that EJ’s got more experience with girls in general, though.

“Nini puts a lot of time and energy into the people she cares about,” EJ says. “And what means the most to her is knowing that the people she cares about are willing to put the same time and energy into her.”

“So… This is a test?” he questions. 

“Maybe? Sort of? I don’t know,” EJ shakes his head. “The point is, you messed up this morning and Nini’s upset. Showing her that you aren’t gonna give up on trying to make this right would probably go a long way.” 

Ricky turns the idea over in his head. “That’s...actually pretty good advice, EJ. Thanks.”

“Don’t act so surprised,” the athlete chuckles. “I’m more than just a pretty face. I’ve got a four-point-two GPA and sometimes I know stuff.” 

“Sometimes,” Ricky concedes with a teasing smirk. 

EJ nudges him playfully in return. “C’mon, Romeo,” he says, clapping a hand on Ricky’s shoulder and shepherding him toward the gym. “Water break’s over.” 

* * *

Nini sits on the stage with her legs stretched out in front of her, her “Twelve Angry Men” script open in front of her. Ms. Jenn had them all cross out “Men” and write “Jurors” on the cover on the first day. It was the drama teacher’s idea to do a short play in between the fall and spring musicals. Something about keeping their skills sharp and having fun with it. She is playing Juror Number Five, which the script helpfully describes as a “young and naive juror who holds strong convictions but is too timid to voice them.” She has a sneaking suspicion that Ms. Jenn did that on purpose, considering none of them actually auditioned for their parts. 

She notices Ricky enter the auditorium out of the corner of her eye, following his progress as he trudges toward the stage. He drops his backpack at the front of the auditorium and she sees that the strings of his hoodie are uneven. She wants to go over and fix them, but resists the urge. Space, she reminds herself. She needs space to finish cooling off so she doesn’t explode on him. Her plan goes out the window when Ricky clomps up the stage steps and approaches her. 

He draws in a deep breath as he walks steadily toward Nini. EJ’s advice rings in his ears. _Just show her that you aren’t gonna give up on making it right._ “Hey, Nini?” His voice is a tremor, and he curses himself inwardly as he clears his throat. “Nini?” he tries again.

The brunette looks up at him from her seat on the ground. “What is it, Ricky?” she asks. Her tone is testy, but not nearly as lethal as she was at lunch, and he thanks his lucky stars for that. 

He wets his lips and shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “Can we talk?” 

She releases a breath, tamping down her initial irritation. She reminds herself that Ricky means well. “Not now,” she says. “Now’s not really a good time.” 

For a moment, Ricky is ready to give in. His shoulders slump and he buries his hands deeper into his pockets. He starts to turn around, but then he stops, memories of every fight his parents ever had flooding his mind. Every shouting match that ended with them padding off to opposite corners of the house to sulk. They all ended the same way. His parents would give each other a wide berth. The length of time depended on the severity of the disagreement. And then, eventually, they would act like nothing happened. Ricky hated that the most. He never knew how he was supposed to act. Was he supposed to pretend that he hadn’t heard their raised voices cutting through his floor, his walls, his pillow, and his music? Was he supposed to act like nothing was wrong because it was easier and more comfortable? He won’t make the same mistake now. He won’t pretend everything’s fine when it isn’t. He’s not ready to give up.

“No,” Ricky says, turning again to face her. “Nini, I can’t just let this go. We need to talk about it.” 

“Not _now_ ,” Nini hisses.

“Then _when_?”

“Later. Sometime. I don’t know,” she answers, eyes flitting about the auditorium. _Where the hell is Ms. Jenn?_

“That doesn’t work for me,” Ricky shakes his head. 

Nini’s first instinct is to point out that _she’s_ the wronged party here, and he doesn’t get to dictate the terms. But she bites the inside of her cheek instead. “Ricky, I need some space.”

His face falls. “L-like a break?” 

She winces. “No, not a break. Just space.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know!” her voice echoes around the stage, halting any other conversation in the theater. 

“Nini, I want to fix this,” Ricky says, his eyes wide and conciliatory. “I’m not quitting until we talk this out.” 

She pinches the bridge of her nose, letting out a frustrated sigh. Her eyes fall on the roll of tape used for stage marking that rests by Natalie’s feet. An idea strikes her. “You know what? I can’t take this anymore. Natalie?” She turns to the girl. “Gaffer’s tape, please.” 

“What?” 

“Gaffer’s tape,” Nini requests, pointing to the roll. 

The stage manager glances quizzically at the tape, then at her. The sharp look Nini gives her compels her to fetch the roll and hand it over wordlessly. 

“Thanks,” Nini mutters, accepting the roll of tape with flourish. 

“Nini, what’re you doing?” Ricky asks, eyebrow arched. For a moment, he forgets she’s mad at him as he watches her tear the tape and stoop down.

“Since you won’t give me the space I’m asking for,” she says, sticking the end flush with the edge of the stage, “I’m taking it.” She runs her finger over the smooth, black strip a few times, ensuring it is properly stuck to the ground. She begins to unspool the tape, walking backwards from the edge. When she reaches the curtain, she tears the tape off and sticks it down, dividing the stage in half. “There,” she says, hands on hips. She looks to Ricky haughtily. 

“There?” he repeats, his expression bewildered. 

“There,” she confirms, gesturing to the line that now separates them. “Now you have your side of the stage and I have mine.” 

“You can’t be serious…”

“Oh, I’m serious,” Nini confirms. The look in her eye is wild and giddy, and if it weren’t turned against him, Ricky would find her irresistible. He still does, despite himself. 

“Nini, c’mon,” he tries, glancing at his drama club compatriots helplessly. His eyes lock with Big Red, who stands offstage behind Nini, looking on in disbelief. The entire auditorium has fallen silent, transfixed by the events playing out onstage before them. Ricky takes a step over the line and Nini whips around severely. 

“Back on your side, Bowen,” she grits out, her tone so fierce that he throws his hands up in surrender and flees back over the line. He turns to find Kourtney standing behind him and looks at her pleadingly, hoping her best friend can talk some sense into her.

“I’m on the wrong side of the stage,” Kourtney shakes her head, crossing over to join Nini. 

Big Red frowns. “You know what? Me, too.” He crosses in the opposite direction to join Ricky. 

“Oh, so we’re all choosing sides now?” Nini says imperiously. 

“We wouldn’t _have to_ if you hadn’t literally divided the stage in half,” Ricky points out testily. 

“Well I wouldn’t _have to_ if you would just follow instructions!” Her tone is heated, and it makes Ricky’s heart rate surge as much as it makes him wince. He won’t admit that it’s a little _too_ similar to the way his mother sounded when yelling at his father. “Ash?” Nini glances at the redhead. 

Ashlyn tosses her hands up. “Don’t look at me,” she says. “I’m staying out of it.” She shakes her head as she makes her way down the stairs and takes a seat.

Nini follows her progress down the stage steps, then turns to Carlos, who stands off to the side near Ricky. “Sorry, Ricky,” he shrugs, making his way over the line. 

Both their eyes fall on Seb sitting on a milk crate backstage. He blinks and adjusts his glasses. “I already sat down,” he says. “I’m not moving.” He turns back to his script and begins muttering his lines under his breath. 

“I can’t deal with this!” Natalie cries, bolting for the exit. “Someone text me when Ms. Jenn gets here.” 

“Gina?” Ricky turns to the sophomore hopefully. She leans against the handrail of the stage stairs and eyes them coolly. 

“Yeah. Gina?” Nini mimics his tone. 

Gina looks from Nini to Ricky and back and shakes her head. “You guys are both acting like two year-olds,” she says, gracefully making her way down the steps. “Scoot over, Ash,” she requests, sliding in beside the redhead.

“What happened to girl power?” Nini asks wiltingly. 

“What about it?” Gina returns. “Girl power means we support each other, but it also means we call each other out when we’re acting dumb. Case in point,” she gestures between the girl and her boyfriend. “I mean seriously, you’re both better than this.” 

“EJ?” Ricky asks, ignoring the swipe and turning to look at the only member of the drama club still onstage. He straddles the line that has been drawn down the center. 

EJ’s expression wavers for a moment before he starts toward Ricky’s side of the stage. 

“Typical,” Nini mutters. 

“Huh?” 

“I’m just saying,” she gestures between EJ and Ricky. “Of course you’d support Ricky. Bros before -”

“Nini, it’s not like that,” EJ interrupts, taking a step toward her side of the stage.

“Dude, weren’t you _just_ giving me advice?” Ricky says to his back. 

EJ hesitates, then starts toward Ricky once more. 

“Seriously?” Nini raises her voice slightly. “You gave him _advice_ ? On _what_?” 

“You know what?” EJ cries, sitting down on the line and folding his arms petulantly. “I’ve had enough! Both of you just stop it. I’m not choosing a side!” 

“Now look what you did,” Ricky grumbles, gesturing to the older teen on the ground.

“ _Me_?!” Nini replies shrilly. 

“This whole thing was _your_ idea and that’s that on that.” 

“It was _my_ idea because _you_ can’t give me space!” 

“I’ve been _giving_ you space all day and I’m tired of letting it get between us.” 

“Well, it’s getting between us now, isn’t it?” Nini gestures to the thick tape line that separates them. She sucks in a deep breath. Her head pounds and there’s a slight pain in her temple and she’s aware of how far off the rails this has gone but she can’t bring herself to stop. The two stare each other down silently.

“Okay,” Ms. Jenn enters the auditorium, clapping her hands together to gain the students’ attention. The muffled clicking of her heels on the carpet resonates around the theater. She pauses halfway down the aisle, taking in the sight of Ricky and Nini on opposite ends of the stage, EJ between them. “I have to admit, I did _not_ expect EJ to be the one in the middle in this equation,” she muses out loud, then shrugs. “What is this, some kind of warm-up?” she asks Ashlyn and Gina.

“If only,” Gina snorts.

“Great,” Ms. Jenn replies brightly, her smile a little too tight. “Alright everyone, sorry I’m late! Let’s get started.” 

Ricky’s eyes dart to Nini. His chest heaves as he tries to draw in air. “Are we… Are we doing this?” he asks her.

“Of course,” Nini says airily. “I’m a consummate professional.” 

“Oh yeah, real professional,” Ricky grouses. 

Kourtney texts Natalie to return to the auditorium and she and Big Red position the table - the lone set piece - on the stage. It straddles Nini’s line right where EJ once sat. 

* * *

They are supposed to be seated in numerical order. Seb, the overly formal foreman of the jury sits on one end. EJ, the easily-swayed Juror Two, sits beside him, followed by Carlos, who was thrilled to be given the role of villainous Juror Three and Gina, in the role of the wealthy and slightly superior Juror Four. Nini’s seat is situated right at the edge of the line, with Big Red sitting beside her as the sincere but slow-witted Juror Six. His seat butts up against the line on Ricky’s side of the stage.

The rest of Ricky’s side is made up of the brash and hot-tempered Juror Seven (who Kourtney all but jumped at the chance to portray), the rational protagonist Juror Eight (aptly played by Ashlyn), Natalie as the mild-mannered old Juror Nine, Steffy and Rico as Jurors Ten and Eleven, and finally, Ricky as the earnest and well-intentioned but completely clueless Juror Twelve. Nini thought the roles were perfectly chosen when they were first assigned, and she’s more convinced than ever that Ms. Jenn has a crystal ball or a way to read their minds now. She’s just grateful that Ricky is positioned so far downstage from her.

“Places, everyone!” Ms. Jenn calls, taking her seat with a copy of the script open in her lap, pencil ready for notes.

“Red,” Ricky hisses as they move to their seats. “Switch with me?” 

“Why?” 

“Because…” the dark-haired boy glances surreptitiously at Nini, taking the seat beside Big Red’s. 

“Oh,” the redhead nods. “Right. Yeah.” 

“I owe you one,” Ricky says, clapping his best friend on the back and tumbling into the seat beside Nini. He gulps when Kourtney wheels around and glares at him. 

“Ms. Jenn, aren’t we supposed to be in numerical order?” Nini asks primly, sighing inwardly at her boyfriend’s persistence. In any other situation, his dogged determination would be endearing. 

The drama teacher surveys the stage. “Technically yes, but I suppose it doesn’t really matter what order the jurors sit in. No one is named outright anyway.” 

“Great,” Nini mutters.

“Okay, so we’ll take it from Act One,” Ms. Jenn calls. “And action.” 

Kourtney casts her eyes around the table and recites her first line. “Chewing gum? Gum? Gum?” She mimes holding out a package of gum to the table, offering it to everyone except Ricky. 

“Thank you, but no,” Natalie responds.

“Y’know something?” Kourtney turns pointedly to Ricky, acknowledging him for the first time.

He smiles nervously. “I-I know lots of things. I’m in advertising.” 

“Pause!” Ms. Jenn says. “Ricky, sweetie, you’re an advertising executive. You’re supposed to be a hotshot. Try it again with a little more confidence.” 

“Confidence,” Ricky mumbles. “Right.” He turns to Kourtney but her expression hasn’t softened. If anything, she looks even more intimidating now. “I know lots of things,” he repeats. “I’m in advertising.” 

Kourtney continues to glare at him. “It’s hot,” she says in a deadpan, then turns away. 

“I never would’ve known that if she hadn’t told me,” Ricky turns to EJ, his tone dripping with more sarcasm than the line calls for. “Would you?” 

EJ’s eyes flick from Ricky to Nini, who keeps her eyes glued to the tabletop. “I suppose not,” he says haltingly. “I’d kind of forgotten.” 

“All I’ve done today is sweat,” Ricky recites his line, directing the words more toward Nini. It’s ironic, he thinks, because all she’s done today is put him on ice.

They continue to recite their lines, occasionally glancing at their scripts to make sure they aren’t missing cues. Finally, Ricky finds a lull in his speaking parts while Carlos and Ashlyn exchange barbs as Jurors Three and Eight. He turns to Nini, using his script to shield his lips. 

“Nini, I’m serious. Please just hear me out.” 

“I’m going to miss my cue,” she hisses back, her upper lip stiff. 

“I’ll be quick! I just need you to know that I get why you’re upset…” 

“Oh my god!” Nini stands up suddenly. “Back. Off. _Please_!” she says, her voice equal parts frustrated and imploring. She looks around the table. Carlos’s mouth hangs open, his line half-delivered. The tips of her ears burn and her face feels like it’s on fire. Ricky sinks lower in his seat beside her, reddening rapidly. 

Ms. Jenn clears her throat to break the awkward silence. “Nini, sweetheart,” she says gently. “I appreciate that you’re trying to get into the spirit of an angry juror, but Juror Five is supposed to be timid. She has opinions but she’s too afraid to voice them. Remember?” 

Nini bites her lip. She considers apologizing to Ms. Jenn. To Carlos. To her friends. Hell, even to Ricky. But then she’s reminded that she was trying to do the right thing. She was trying to keep herself calm and rational. She was trying not to let this whole thing fly off the handle. But it’s a little too late for that now, and if Ricky’s going to force this conversation then she may as well let it all out. 

“Well maybe,” she says, turning to Ricky, “Juror _Five_ is just sick of Juror _Twelve_ trying to talk to her while they’re _supposed_ to be deliberating.” 

Ricky frowns and stands up beside her, facing her. “Well _maybe_ Juror _Twelve_ is trying to say something important to Juror _Five_!” 

Nini turns her back to him and takes several steps deeper into her side of the stage. He moves to follow but she orders him to stop without turning around.

“Oh, god. What’s happening?” Ms. Jenn questions quietly.

“Maybe Juror _Five_ meant what she said when she said she wanted to be left alone right now,” Nini says, her back still turned to Ricky.

“Oh. That’s what’s happening. Okay,” the drama teacher shifts in her seat, crossing one leg over the other. 

Ricky takes a tentative step toward the line. “What if Juror Twelve just wants to apologize to Juror Five because he messed up and made her late to court this morning?”

“Uh, are you going to stop them?” Natalie looks to Ms. Jenn helplessly. 

The drama teacher shrugs. “They’re improvising,” she says. 

“Alright,” Gina mutters, pushing her chair out and standing up. “I think I’ve heard enough improv today. Juror Four is requesting a recess.” She makes her way off the stage, followed closely by Ashlyn and Seb. One-by-one, the rest of the drama club joins them, until all that’s left onstage is Nini facing the wall and Ricky facing her back.

Nini draws a shuddering breath and slowly turns to face her boyfriend. She takes a step forward. “Is that really what you think this is about, Ricky?” she asks softly.

Ricky nods, eyes wide. He hazards another step forward and she doesn’t stop him. Instead, she moves toward him. Her sigh is resigned and a little mournful. 

“That’s not why I was upset. Or,” she corrects, “Not why I’m still upset.” 

“Then what is it?” his voice is small and fragile, and Nini feels her heart rend in two at the fearfulness in his expression. Guilt starts to work its way into her consciousness.

She steps toward him, slowly, as if any sudden movement will spook him and send him tearing down the stairs and out of the theater. “I’m okay with you doing things to blow off steam,” she prefaces. “Playing video games or whatever. Like, it’s cool,” she says. “And I’m cool with you staying up late, too, don’t get me wrong. What I’m not okay with is feeling like my time is being disrespected. I know you didn’t mean it,” she says, bringing her eyes up from the wooden floor to meet his. She holds his gaze. “But this happens all the time, Ricky, and every time you say you’ll do better but you don’t. And it just… It makes me feel like you don’t really care how you being late affects me. It makes me feel like you’re just saying what you think I want to hear so I’ll get off your back.” 

Ricky swallows, relief washing over him even as Nini tells him exactly what he’s done wrong. At least he’s not in limbo anymore. He ventures closer to the line that divides them. “I didn’t know you felt that way,” he says, his voice thick with unshed tears that threaten to escape him at any moment. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

She sighs and takes a final step, the toe of her Doc Martens landing right on the line. “I didn’t want to start a fight,” she shakes her head, gesturing vaguely toward him. “I mean, after everything with your parents… I know it’s still a little raw for you right now and… Well, I didn’t wanna make it worse. But I guess I did anyway.” 

Ricky closes the gap between them, planting his sneakers on the other side of the line. They stand for a moment, toe-to-toe, eye-to-eye. “Nini,” he says softly, unsure if he should reach for her hand. His words fail him. He can’t possibly articulate how much he loves her in this moment. He’s never been the type to ask to be treated gently, and yet somehow Nini has always known when to handle him with care. Or at least when to try. “I wish you would’ve told me anyway,” he says, letting out a sheepish, watery laugh as his eyes turn glassy, reflecting the stage lights. “I spent all day worried that you were gonna break up with me and I didn’t know why. Thank you,” he adds quickly, “for trying to be sensitive, Nini, really. But I’d much rather know why you’re mad than have to guess.”

“I just wanted some time to cool off, you know?” she explains. “And then it would just blow over. It wasn’t that big a deal.” 

“Yes, it is,” he insists, and this time he does take her hands in his. “If it’s a big deal to you, it’s a big deal to me. And if I upset you, I wanna make it right. I’ll never stop trying until I’ve made it right. I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry that I disrespected your time. I’m sorry that I didn’t even stop to think how what I was doing was affecting you. And I promise - really promise - that I’m gonna be better. I’ll be more considerate of you, and if I stay up late I’ll make sure I’m up on time anyway.” 

A smile tugs at Nini’s lips, and she’s not sure if it’s relief, joy, love, or the fact that Ricky is tearing up, but she feels her own eyes start to well up too. “I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry I held it over you and I’m sorry that I didn’t just tell you what was bothering me. I’m sorry I let it get out of hand. And I promise - really promise - that if there’s an issue between us again, I’ll be more direct about it so you don’t have to guess.” 

“So… Am I forgiven?” Ricky asks tentatively, thumbs brushing over her knuckles. 

She laughs and pulls him over the line, and he dips his head so that their foreheads touch. “You’re forgiven,” she says, slipping her hands around his neck. “Am I?” 

“Of course,” he murmurs, his lips a breath away from hers. 

“I love you,” she says.

“I love you, too.” 

She leans up on her tiptoes and kisses him slowly, sweetly. She kisses him like she’s been dying to kiss him all day, even when she was fuming. He kisses her back, channeling every ounce of love and gratitude and forgiveness and remorse directly from his mouth to hers. A swoon goes up amid the drama club. _Finally_ , Ashlyn mouths, turning to Gina and rolling her eyes.

Ms. Jenn leaps up from her seat, her applause resounding throughout the theater. Ricky and Nini break apart quickly, blushing furiously. They’d forgotten they had an audience. 

“Truly inspired!” Ms. Jenn says, blue eyes twinkling. “What a remarkable rewrite of _Twelve Angry Jurors_. It had it all. Tension. Tragedy. Suspense. Romance. Reconciliation.” She blows a chef’s kiss. “Take notes, everyone,” she turns to the rest of the drama club. “You just witnessed an improvisational masterpiece.” 

EJ sighs in relief and turns to Seb. “I’m just glad they made up so we can stop choosing sides.” 

“Pretty sure you didn’t have to choose a side if you didn’t want to,” Seb points out. 

“Maybe, but now I don’t have to worry about it at all,” the older teen responds.

“Yeah, but you totally would’ve picked Ricky’s side if you had to, right?” Big Red pipes up.

“No way,” Kourtney interjects. “He definitely would’ve picked Nini’s. Right, EJ?” 

The senior casts them both a withering look and covers his ears with his hands.

* * *

Ricky is sitting on his doorstep when Nini pulls up. He has his backpack draped over one shoulder and his guitar case resting on the stair rail beside him, and he pops up like a spring the second he spots her dark blue car. He jogs over to her and opens the passenger door, tumbling into the seat and resting the guitar case between his knees. 

She leans over and kisses him on the lips by way of greeting. “I gotta say,” she says approvingly, “Punctual Ricky is by far the hottest Ricky.” 

“Then get ready for me to be irresistible,” he smirks, reaching for his seat belt while she puts the car in gear. “Because I might even be _early_ from now on.”

“I don’t know if I could handle that,” she giggles as they pull away from the curb. She reaches for the volume knob and adjusts the stereo so that Lizzo is blasting throughout the cabin. They sing the entire way to school and jam out at red lights, unfazed by the strange looks that their fellow motorists cast them. They arrive at school fifteen minutes early.

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? It really do be dumbasses on dumbasses out here. I would love to hear your thoughts, and if you have ideas for future oneshots by all means submit them to me on here or over on my Tumblr (@ ebi-pers)! I'm still working on updates for Do You Hear The People Sing but sometimes it's nice to take a detour and pursue other ideas, too.


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